The Standard
by ICanReadYouLikeABook
Summary: Ichigo x Rukia fluff - “If I kissed you, it would mean nothing. Purely platonic.” Rukia has some questions concerning modern-day social norms.


_"A kiss is nothing more than a greeting. It's no big deal. In the book I was reading the other day, even more shocking things were happening." -Rukia Kuchiki_

* * *

It was a lazy Saturday afternoon. The air seemed thicker and hotter with every intake of breath, and rays of golden light reflected off the glass frame sitting on the table next to the bed. The sun was just beginning to set, and the shades of orange and purple made Rukia Kuchiki's skin glow.

With feet propped upon the window and arms tucked behind his head, Ichigo Kurosaki stared at the white ceiling of his bedroom. This was nice – getting a break. Rukia's infernal hollow tracker hadn't buzzed all day, and this was the partners' first break in weeks.

The raven-haired warrior lay on her makeshift bed in the shade of the closet, with a ray of the sun illuminating the pages of her new book. She frowned often and sighed occasionally, obviously not enjoying what she saw. A third, disapproving "Hmmm," broke the silence. Ichigo turned his eyes from the constant whirring of the ceiling fan to glimpse at his friend.

She was wearing her new favorite pair of cotton capris and a thin, black tank top that bared a bit of her perfect abdomen when she shifted. Through the fabric, her thick bandages healing her wounds were obvious. It was almost comical to watch her tiny face frown in displeasure at something so trivial to Ichigo. He turned his head to get a better look at the problem.

"Bad book?" he teased.

It was the first time anyone had spoken in an hour. She quickly scanned over the very last page before closing the book, sitting up and crossing her legs underneath her.

"Ichigo," she said slowly, filling the silence "After all these years of trying to adjust to a time period so different from mine, I still can't help but wonder…must people microwave _everything_?"

A small smile graced his features and spread when he realized she was quite serious. It was funny, to say the least – it seemed like only yesterday he was teaching her to use a juice box. Watching her conform to society had been arduous but entertaining, and his reward was watching her go from floor-length pants and large, ugly shirts to the (somewhat-sexist) high school uniform and thin straps of her tank tops.

"It's all about efficiency," he told her, watching her turn her body to face his direction.

"Rap music is efficient?"

His eyebrows furrowed. "You know I don't like rap music."

"Yes, but you listen to it anyways to keep up with the people who _do _enjoy it."

Something about her choice in words made his stomach turn. Rukia had never failed to make him feel slightly guilty about his need to keep up his reputation and cool demeanor. Was it necessary, sometimes? Or was it just superficial? Maybe the line was too blurred for him to tell the difference.

He decided to change the subject. "What were you reading, anyways?"

"Some modern-day teenage fiction," she shrugged it off. "Just some junk to familiarize myself with 21st century literature."

There were times when Ichigo forgot that she was much older than she appeared.

"Learn anything new?"

She hesitated a bit, because casual conversation didn't come often to them. This was an opportunity she should probably take, despite the possible outcome.

"Maybe too much. Showing skin is attractive, holding your dance partner is a lost cause, and 'I love you' means so much, yet so little."

The last statement sparked an interest. He gave her a curious look, prompting her to continue.

"In my time, 'I love you' was reserved for the person you loved, and the person you loved, only." Her expression changed to distaste. "Now a day, it's for anyone at any time, and it's hard to figure out if they really mean it."

"I love you," he said simply.

Thick silence swirled around them, swallowing Rukia's ability to make a retort.

Ichigo smiled. "What do you think that meant?"

'_Oh,'_ she thought to herself. '_He wasn't serious.'_

"Nothing, actually."

"Good girl."

She resisted the urge to throw a pillow at his big head. "Of course. You're incapable of loving anyone romantically of the opposite sex. Same? Well…that's another question"

Her melodic laughter kept him from throwing the sleeping Kon at her face. Of course she was kidding, although one would come to their own conclusions. The guy that was most adored by the females in all of Karakura High School never seemed to take interest in any one of them.

"Ha ha ha," he mocked her. "Now shut up and tell me somethin' else."

Again, she hesitated. There were things one did not talk about to Ichigo. Sure, they had been through hell and back, and there were things he knew about her that she discovered after he did, but crossing the line didn't seem to be an option. On one side, there were the sob stories of their past and the motives of their future that they had shared with each other already. And on the undiscovered side, she was sure there were many, many things.

Romance – that was one of them. She had never experienced it, and he would never let her live it down if she got too personal. So that was the plan – keep it curious, and don't get private. It was too bad that she didn't realize he could read her like a book.

She unnecessarily cleared her throat. "The romantic aspect of this society is quite puzzling, to say the least. Every hug and kiss is scrutinized."

He thought back to the time Kon first ran around in his body. It was hard to forget, really. The upheaval he caused for kissing Orihime Inoue almost ruined him. And then there was Rukia, who didn't find anything shocking about it. She had said something about kisses being a form of greeting in her time. He couldn't remember…

"Isn't it kind of the same thing about 'I love you's? How they should be shared with only the person you're really into? Same thing for uh, kisses," he stumbled over the word. "You can't just run around pecking everyone just to say hello."

"You mean to tell me that kissing is a form of great passion?"

He sat up and rubbed the back of his neck, growing unsure about the turn the conversation was taking. "I-I guess so."

How would he know? He had no experience with such a thing.

"Or maybe," he added "it depends on who it's with."

"Maybe." She paused and decided to take a stab at his overgrown ego. "If I kissed you," she said sweetly, her bangs tumbling over her left eye "it would mean nothing. Purely ineffectual."

She had done her job well. The look on his face was a mix of surprise and anger at her proposal. Of course, there were no witnesses to tell whether she was right or wrong, but he was far too great of a person to believe he was bad at it.

She peered at him innocently through her thick lashes and used the school charade she had quickly perfected in order to make his anger look unjustified. Her pink lips struggled to suppress smile as she watched him – and his ego – smolder.

"Wh-I-eh-uh-_thatisnottrue_!"

His anger did nothing for him, considering Rukia liked wounding his self-esteem like a thug with a baseball bat. She leaned against the back of the closet, enjoying the show.

"Oh, but it is," she insisted ingenuously. "Kissing you would be as easy as saying hello, Ichigo."

"Lies."

"The truth, idiot," she corrected him curtly. "You're so wrapped up in the ways of the modern era, you can't see that the standard is still the same-"

"-the _hell _the standard is the same!"

"Are oversized emotions part of modern standard, too?"

"Screw you."

"Mmmm," she smiled. "That's definitely something you wish you could do."

Ragging on Ichigo about his nonexistent kissing skills was pretty unfair, but the fact that he'd probably be a virgin for another couple of years? That was low. That was below the belt. That was taking his belt off and beating him with it. A man's reproductive skills were not to be messed with.

Figuring that they had crossed the line about what was subject material between them and what was not to be said out loud, Ichigo decided to take a chance. He was standing up, now, and glaring at her as if she was Satan with a pedicure.

"I don't think you like the fact that you're a virgin in every aspect of your life."

Her eyebrows arched and she stood. "Not really. I think the whole purpose of this conversation, anyways, was to explain aspects of the modern era that I don't understand. What's running through that thick head of yours is probably different."

"So you're _not_ a virgin," he concluded.

She gaped at him like a fish. "I am completely," she struggled "…_untouched_."

"Which renders your knowledge of kissing _useless_!"

"Idiot! I am not discussing this with you!"

She peered past him and through the window. The sun had finally gone down, replacing the vast blue sky with black velvet. In her big, purple eyes, the moon reflected and made them sparkle.

"There's one thing that hasn't changed-" she murmured to herself. "-the distinction between the man and the moon."

And what she meant by that, he had no idea.

"Your perspectives about the 21st century are seriously twisted."

She shrugged. "I'm sorry," she said sincerely. "It's just…kissing you would be far, far from affection."

She was quite serious. And Ichigo Kurosaki had had enough. In two strides, he was across the room, in his closet, and pressing his lips forcefully against hers.

At this point, she had two options. One, she could give him a forceful and meaningful kick to the gut to send him spiraling in the air and through the window. Two, she could kiss him back.

Or maybe she didn't actually have two options. Or maybe, in her mind, one and only one option was right and perfect.

So she kissed him back. And it was nothing like she had ever experienced.

"Hi," he whispered when they finally came up for air. He had his trademark grin of arrogance on, though he was slightly winded. "Now tell me that was relatively better than a greeting card."

"So the social norm…" she asked, breathing, "has changed?"

He nodded, wrapping an arm around her slender waist. "I think you'll enjoy adapting to it."

Despite his overconfidence, she found herself smiling. That was how weird Ichigo was- he got under her skin more than often, but in the end she was still grinning.

Mere inches apart, he proceeded to lean down and plant another delicious kiss on her lips, but the sound of impatient beeping stopped him. They knew that sound as if it was their name- and in a way, it was. It was their calling. She sighed, unclipped her tracker from her waist and slipped away from his embrace like an apparition. It was clear that vacation time was over.

"Ready?"

He took a running leap and jumped through the window with Rukia close behind. "As ready as I'll ever be."

She had been wrong. Rukia had found more in a kiss than she had initially expected. Maybe modern life wasn't so bad, after all. She could get used to it – conformity. Running side by side, they raced against time to protect and serve. Even in the midst of danger, they belonged together. That's what people called devotion. When the night was over, they still wouldn't be far apart.

Perhaps that was the most important standard of all.

* * *

**A/N: **I couldn't resist. These things are flying out of my head at any given moment (try taking an exam and accidentally writing down ideas for a story instead) and I can't control it. Please let me know what you think! Improvement can't come without you guys and your awesome feedback. Thanks for reading! Happy birthday Rukia!


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